Dog and pony show

I should have known better. You would think that after over 63 years of living with myself I would, for better or worse, have a keener ability to predict how I will react to things.

On Tuesday evening, Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center put on a fantastic dog and pony show. I looked to Wikipedia to confirm my understanding of that expression before using it here:

"Dog and pony show" is a colloquial term which has come to mean a highly promoted, often over-staged performance, presentation, or event designed to sway or convince opinion for political, or less often, commercial ends. Typically, the term is used in a pejorative sense to connote disdain, jocular lack of appreciation, or distrust of the message being presented or the efforts undertaken to present it.

Yep, that explains it.

While we were waiting for the presentation to begin, a woman sitting next to me started up a conversation. The woman was morbidly obese, and she complained that she had a hard time finding a doctor who would treat her because of this. Then someone told her that at MSKCC they would be willing to take on the challenges of treating such a patient, and she is still here five years later.

To start the program, two former MSKCC patients, both relatively young, spoke of their experiences being diagnosed and treated for cancer. The first recalled being diagnosed at a local hospital, where the doctors provided her with rapid-fire information while all she could hear was “blah, blah, blah.” At MSKCC, the doctors took the time to explain everything to her. The second was a medical student at the time of his diagnosis and treatment, and is now planning to pursue post-graduate training in oncology.

The keynote speaker was neonatologist and cancer survivor Dr. Jennifer Arnold, co-star of “The Little Couple,” a television show which airs on TLC but we had never seen. She told a 30-minute version of the story of her life with the theme of “grace,” using each of the letters to represent something important she tries to include in the way she lives each day. Sorry, but despite the fact that we were given nifty little writing books, I did not write these down and cannot seem to remember any of them.

By now you are probably getting the feeling that I did not particularly enjoy tis event. Barry was not surprised; he was not sure why I wanted to go in the first place, and I can no longer articulate what I was expecting.

I am certainly not a dour person, and I do not think that I tend to focus too heavily on the darker side of things. But looking at cancer as a battle and celebrating the victors somehow suggests that those who were not in attendance at this event simply did not have the strength or the courage to fight the valiant fight. This is simply not true. It is very easy for the “survivors” and their caregivers to treat themselves to a round of applause, but how can we do this without forgetting all the patients and their devoted caregivers who are not in the room with us because they are too debilitated or no longer alive?

By definition those gathered on Tuesday were the ones who can wear rose-colored glasses. While I am grateful to be part of that group, I am ever mindful of how little any of my particular attributes had to do with it, and how quickly and easily it can all disappear.  

On a much lighter note, we are going out tonight to see David Crosby perform at a place called Town Hall. We have never seen him apart from Stephen Stills and Graham Nash. He underwent a liver transplant over ten years ago and it is wonderful that he came through that and is still able to perform. But we still have to think about all those folks who need transplants and cannot be moved to the top of the list in time to save them, or cannot afford to consider that option at all.

I will write about the concert!

  

Love,

Rebecca